Summoning The Beast
by darkphoneix
Summary: Kinda hard to say without giving the story away, but it involves Ranma becoming at least semi-evil.
1. Prologue

Summoning the Beast: Prologue  
  
"Nabiki, what are you doing?" Ranma asked calmly as he entered her  
room. That she had summoned him, well more like ordered him to come,  
was obvious, for the boy never ventured into Nabiki's room  
voluntarily. He had a good reason to ask the question, too.  
  
Nabiki looked up from where she knelt on the floor. She wore a black  
bath robe and in her hand she held a paint brush that dripped blood,  
or something very close in appearance to blood. A large circle, about  
three foot in diameter, was marked out on the floor, and around the  
rim of this circle glowed symbols of blood that to Ranma seemed evil,  
powerful, ancient, and demonic all at the same time.  
  
"Summoning the forces of hell, what does it look like?" she snapped  
without ire. Smoothly, with practiced ease, the girl stood, brushing  
off her knees and dropping the bloody paintbrush into a bowl of  
pinkened water.  
  
Ranma had, on occassion, fought something that could be identified as  
'a force of hell', or at the very least, 'a soldier of hell'. They  
tended to be big, ugly and strong, or little, ugly, and fast, and they  
all liked to throw, spit, or start fires. His duty as a martial  
artist was clear on the matter. Despite Nabiki's general stranglehold  
on his wallet and personal life, he had to stop her. "I-I can't let  
you do that, N-Nabiki," he stuttered, unused to defying the  
manipulative middle Tendo.  
  
Nabiki paid little attention to Ranma as she went about the ritual,  
preparing several sticks of incense and a handfull of some  
unidentifiable powder within a small censer. Finally, when Ranma was  
just beginning to sweat from the stifling heat within the room, and  
his mind was fairly well made up on Nabiki's place as either a demon  
or demon possessed victim, she asked,"Why not?" Simple question, no  
verbal pitfalls or crafty loopholes capable of somehow getting him  
tangled up in the scheme, why not answer?  
  
"Well, things from Hell, demons and all, are evil, you know," Ranma  
replied uncertainly."They hurt people and stuff, innocent people, and  
it's my duty to protect them. Something like that," he muttered.  
Stupid martial arts code, what had it ever done for him besides cause  
lots of trouble? It was all he had to judge the world by, though, so  
he'd stick with it for a while yet.  
  
"That's certainly true, except for a few extreme cases," Nabiki  
replied. From a large leather sack, she produced the bloody carcass  
of a mutilated rabbit. This latest ingredient went into the smoking  
brazier that lit the room with an angry red light. Immediately smoke  
burst into the air in a hissing wave and the smell of charring meat  
combined with that of the herbs and incense that already held  
dominance within the modestly sized room.  
  
"Then why are you trying to bring them here, and why did you want me  
with you?" Ranma grated through clenched teeth. Nabiki could normally  
talk circles around him, getting him to agree to practically anything,  
and making his life a little bit of Hell on its own, but now she was  
being so plain and straight forward that Ranma didn't know what to  
think.  
  
Nabiki chuckled, a deep throaty sound that seemed to caress  
Ranma."Ranma, you're so simple, so naive. Do you honestly think I  
would be stupid enough to bring a demon here, to my very own bedroom?  
You must have seen at least one of those perverted animes that your  
loser friends hoard. For the most part, they're true, with a few  
mistakes here and there. Anyway, I digress." A handul of dried  
eyeballs and goat testicles went into the smoldering coals of the  
brazier."I'm just making a really long distance phone call, if it  
makes you feel any better. I need some info on the stock market for  
the next few months and can't afford to risk losing much money. You'd  
be suprised how many evil entities will talk like excited school girls  
if you sacrifice a couple rodents to them."  
  
Ranma's eyes narrowed, but Nabiki seemed to be telling the truth.  
Still, this was too weird to accept on blind faith, and Ranma had very  
little of that in Nabiki Tendo."Okay, if that's true, why do you need  
me? You gonna try to make me fight off a demon or something if you  
screw this up?" Ranma didn't even want to think about what Nabiki had  
just added to the other burning materials, for the sake of men  
everywhere, human or animal.  
  
"I doubt even you could handle the kind of infernal beings I associate  
with, Ranma," Nabiki laughed condescendingly."I just need someone to  
read the incantation for me while I ask the questions. I'd use Kasumi  
like last time, but all the demons seem afraid of her for some reason.  
You'll do just fine, you don't have to be literate to mumble a bunch  
of strange phrases."  
  
Ranma nodded reluctantly. He could do that, if he had to, but there  
was the subject of payment for services rendered. Before he could  
ask, Nabiki stated,"Half your debt, that's good enough, right?"  
  
Vigourously, of its own volition, Ranma's head nodded. Half! That  
was over forty five thousand yen!!!"What do I need to do?" he asked in  
confirmation of his willingness to go along with his pseudo sister-in-  
law.  
  
"Just sit tight for a few more minutes while I get everything ready."  
  
****  
  
Through the oppressive and almost choking smoke, Ranma could barely  
see the other wall of Nabiki's room, but sight wasn't necessary to  
repeat the handful of simple phrases she had forced him to memorize.  
Diligently, fearful of making a mistake and getting sucked into some  
out of the way pit of Hell and burning for eternity, Ranma mouthed the  
words to himself as Nabiki added an enormous cow's heart to the dying  
coals of the brazier. It hissed and crackled, blackening slowly.  
  
"Now, Ranma, loudly," Nabiki hissed.  
  
Ranma instantly began the chant, allowing his mind to wonder as his  
mouth did all the work. From the smoke above the brazier, a faint  
green glow began to form, gradually gaining in intensity until spots  
floated across Ranma's vision. From the span of one moment to the  
next, the glow changed from the deep, throbbing green to a malevolent  
red. Then their was a face, an unimaginably beautiful face, perfect  
in its symmetry and inhuman in its structure. It regarded the pair  
with coldly cruel eyes and a smile that made Ranma's skin crawl.  
Reflexively, Ranma's battle aura slipped from its bonds, coiling  
around him tightly and cooling his skin comfortingly until all the  
sweat was gone and with it some of his fear.  
  
****  
  
The being whose evil infintely eclipsed the worst humanity could  
imagine, regarded the pigtailed youth once again, this time with a  
small amount of respect. For a mortal, a mortal human, the creature  
was amazingly powerful, a god among its weaker brethren. Perhaps the  
pathetic and greedy female and all her useless schemes hadn't been  
endured for nothing, afterall.  
  
Earth had long been barred to any of his kin, himself included. They  
had been forced to send mindless animals in the hopes of one day  
weakening the barrier that separated the myriad planes of existance,  
even sometimes stooping low enough to work with a human to further  
their goals. Others had had their agents on Earth, people of  
influence and power, and Xiombarg had once thought to use the female  
that knelt before him for such a task. She was intelligent, even by  
otherworldly standards, and her vices were admirable in their  
intensity, but the last few years, mere moments for an eternal force  
such as Xiombarg, had seen a stagnation in her potential evil, a  
complacency with the life she had already attained.  
  
Ranma, that was the name Xiombarg plucked from the boy's mind as he  
ignored the petty queries of his summoner. Basically good, the boy  
held to virtues he didn't trully believe in out of ignorance and  
stubborness. No problem. A thought later and seeds of doubt that had  
already been present within his newest hobby's mind began to flourish,  
growing tendrils that snaked their way through his soul. Corruption,  
the kind that left the mind intact, and it was a powerful if  
underdeveloped one in this case, took time, patience and a long  
lasting contact with the mortal. Xiombarg had just the item for the  
job.  
  
The girl's question finally halted and she waited uncertainly for his  
answers. An act of telethapy later and he said,"For the greatest  
gain, use your assets to purchase as mush stock as possible in  
McDonald's." That was all he said, and it was all she had expected,  
except for the subject, but the profits were all that mattered.  
  
A radiant sphere of blackness came hurtling out of a shadowed pillar  
of irredescent flame and stopped before the demon. The sphere slowly  
lost its obscuring darkness, the black energy being drawn into the  
object it contained. It was a sword, one of a kind and irreplacable.  
Xiombarg had kept it for millenia, for once it left his realm it would  
never be able to return, and Artifacts of such power weren't to be  
used negligently.  
  
"Go, protect the boy and keep youself hidden until I command  
otherwise," he ordered the floating sword. It wasn't intelligent in  
the way that sentient creatures were, but one of the many facets of  
the sword's magic allowed it to understand commands given to it by its  
weilder.  
  
****  
  
Blue-gray in color, the blade of the sword, or blades if viewed  
properly, were exactly forty eight inches in length, one half in width  
and one eighth in thickness. Between them a space of one quarter inch  
glowed with silver light and would appear as the same metal as the  
sword itself unless viewed under the light of a full moon. There were  
no cross guards, the blades melding smoothly into a bone white hilt  
inlaid with writhing silver runes that pulsed softly. The foot long  
hilt appeared perfectly, unbroken except by the runes that traced its  
surface, but could, upon command, split in two, becoming a prefect  
replica of itself and leaving two swords where before there had only  
been one. A purely physical description is all we can garner from  
this mysterious weapon as it slices through the fabrics of reality,  
intent upon finding its new master, one Ranma Saotome, student of the  
Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts, and soon to be agent and  
soldier of Hell.  
  
****  
  
Nabiki smiled triumphantly as she surveyed her room. It appeared  
exactly as it had before the ritual. No blood marred the floor  
panelling, smoke no longer drifted heavily along the ceiling, and all  
the various gory implements of summoning no longer existed. Next  
year, when the time came to call upon her ace in the whole once again,  
all new apparatus would be needed. No big deal, she'd be rich by  
then.  
  
Ranma stared around the room with wide, relief feeled eyes. That  
thing had felt...wrong, simply wrong and completely at odds with all  
that represented life. Just being in its prescense made Ranma feel  
dirty and he welcomed the long bath be planned on taking within the  
minute."Where'd everything go?" he asked in an attempt to break the  
uneasy silence.  
  
Nabiki shrugged."Part of the ritual, I guess. It always happens and  
saves me a lot of trouble cleaning up. Now, if you'll excuse me,  
Ranma, I have some business to attend to."  
  
It was a dismissal even Ranma could notice, and he took it gladly. In  
the doorway, only a few steps from freedom, Nabiki said to his  
back,"Not a word, Saotome. Never mention what you just saw or I'll  
make you regret being born."  
  
Ranma frowned, clenching his fists and fighting the urge to smash a  
hole in Nabiki's wall to show her how much he cared for her attitude.  
It would only anger the girl, though, and he'd end up fixing the  
damage, so he nodded without turning and headed for the furo. Halfway  
down the stairs, the boy felt an oily, slick sensation on the back of  
his neck, but it faded quickly and he attributed it to the grime of  
sweat and smoke left over from Nabiki's latest venture.  
  
****  
  
It was linked to its master now, awaiting its other quasi-master's  
command to leave the astral plane and assume its duty.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes: Haven't written anything in a while, and I wasn't  
really in the mood to write this, but the internet went down and I  
couldn't think of anything better to do, so here's something new that  
may or may not be continued. I'm not sure where to take this, but it  
killed a couple hours of time, and I'm starting to feel tired enough  
to get a few hours of sleep, so, I hope you enjoyed it. C&C welcome  
at dark_phoneix@hotmail.com 


	2. Chapter 1

Summoning The Beast: Chapter 1  
  
Deep within the shadowed recesses of a diseased mind, a plan was forming. It was a masterpiece, a true example of strategic perfection implemented with a minimum of hassle. Yes, Genma couldn't wait to tell his friend the good news.  
  
****  
  
"Come back here, Ranma!" Akane shouted, smashing aside a few students unfortunate enough to cross her path. Her mallet, her favorite of the collection, hung from her hand, ready to be weilded in the righteous punishment of suspected pervert, fiance, and martial artist, Ranma Saotome.  
  
Ranma crouched on the outer wall of the school grounds, grinning as his thick-hipped, tomboy of a fiance charged towards him."What's the matter, Akane, can't handle the truth?" he asked with sharp sarcasm.  
  
A dozen feet from her target, Akane froze, glaring at the boy through anger filled eyes."I. DO. NOT. STUFF. MY. BRA." Each word was bitten off and by the time she finished her proclamation an angry battle aura pulsed around her.  
  
"Then what's this?" Ranma asked, holding up a piece of foam shaped roughly like the cup of a bra, even having a small protrusion that could easily pass for a nipple.  
  
Akane's aura faltered and she glanced down at her chest. The left breast was noticeably smaller than the right. Others around the courtyard were beginning to whisper guardedly, several going so far as to snicker and point. Ranma smirked triumphantly and threw the object to Akane, intentionally hitting her in the face with it. With the return of her 'accessory', Akane found her anger once more. Now, though, it was tempered by rage, embarassment, betrayal, jealousy, and another five or six emotions that mostly involved really bad stuff happening to the person who invoked said emotions.  
  
"Die!!!!" the maddened girl screamed, throwing her mallet in a double handed overhead swing that sent it careening in Ranma's direction, a sizable load of chi infused within its structure making it glow a firey red.  
  
Ranma, expecting a wild charge or 'maybe' a thrown hammer of death, froze, unable to comprehend Akane somehow pulling off what appeared to be an advanced chi manipulation technique. Finally, when enough sense returned for Ranma to realize that dodging would be in his best interest, it was too late. He wasn't positioned well enough to do more than expose himself even more to the now car sized attack. Muscles went slack and chi flowed readily, all defensive measures designed to lessen the force of the blow and to allow Ranma to be carried along with it instead of absorbing most of the energy himself.  
  
****  
  
Ranma hovered over a small mirror, unable to close his eyes or drift away from the horrifying scenes which the infernal device played out for him.  
  
-Ranma, in female form, dressed in bright pink fuku, tiny bikini top, and nothing else-  
  
"Oh yes, do it to me good, baby, uhhhhhhhhh...ummm..." the redhead groaned as an animatronic tentacle monster had its way with her.  
  
"Cut! That's perfect Ranko. Take a break and we'll get the props set up for the next scene," said the director of the latest in a long and successful line of 'Ranko: Adventures In The Pornoverse' pornography series.  
  
-Ranma, a much older Ranma, strapped down by a dozen three inch thick titanium bars, and wearing an orange convict outfit-  
  
"Whenever you're ready, Ms. Tendo," the guard told Kasumi as she stepped up to the oversized electrical circuit on the wall.  
  
A newspaper lying discarded on the floor suddenly zoomed in close enough for Ranma to read. 'Convicted rapist, murderer, drug dealer, and child pornographer, Ranma Saotome to face first execution in over three decades.'   
  
Without hesitation, Kasumi flipped the switch and the older Ranma twitched slightly. He turned to face Kasumi and the warden."Kinda tickles, can we try agai-" the comment was cut off as a frightened guard emptied an entire clip of incendiary shells into Ranma's chest.  
  
-Ranma, hidden within the purple costume and totally obscured from normal vision, yet still identifiable to Nightmare Ranma by his aura-  
  
"I love you, you love me, let's get together and be a famaily," sang the costumed Ranma from within his Barney suit. Hundreds of children in the audience screeched in immature bliss.  
  
Finally, after more scenes than I can currently imagine had played out, and Ranma was seriously starting to wonder wether or not he was dead and if this was Hell or just something very close. Damn Nabiki and her demon friends, damn them to Hell...wait, that really didn't sound right, not for the demons anyway. No, Nabiki could stay in hell, but the demons, damn them to Heaven.  
  
****  
  
"Ranma, wake your ass up and save Akane," Nabiki growled as she repeatedly slapped the youth. That she was currently in a swimming pool-sized crater, with Ranma as the epicenter, and Akane as the creator of the new landscaping didn't matter. There was some crazy floating sword chasing her baby sister around the school yard and Ranma was the only person she knew of who could deal with that kind of thing. Poor Kuno, and he'd thought it a gift from the kami, right up until it shaved him bald and left him a whimpering puddle of pathetic personified.  
  
"But mommy, I don't wanna wear lipstick, it's icky..." Ranma mumbled in his sleep.  
  
"This is sad. What does it take to get through that thick skull of your's, Ranma?" Nabiki asked the inert body. Sighing, she called to one of her go-fors to throw down a rope. Once she got the line, she tied it firmly around Ranma's ankles and gave the command for her assembled workforce to haul Ranma out of the pit. It wouldn't do at all for her to actually get 'her' hands dirty.  
  
"What do you wish for us to do with him, Nabiki-sama?" a plain looking girl with glasses asked her mentor/mistress. Nabiki was beginning to regret getting that imp to put that geas on all her associates. Sure, it made things such as insubordination and imbezzling a thing of the past, but meaningful conversation and creativity got thrown out in the mud. Oh well, she always had been the brains of the operation, anyway.  
  
"Dunk him in the swimming pool a couple times, that oughta snap him out of it." Activating the curse was a convenient way of waking Ranma up, returning his sanity, and making a large sum of money on hot water when the water heater 'mysteriously' stopped working only days after last being repaired.  
  
Meanwhile, Akane ran around the courtyard, screaming like a frightened girl, mostly cause she was a frightened girl, as a large sword chased her around like it was playing tag with her. Every so often it would dart in and score a hit, never actually injuring Akane, but her dress was little more than tattered ribbons of cloth and the students of Furinkan, those not too scared to stay, were getting a rather revealing show. Every escape attempt, either by gate, smashed hole in wall, or simply hiding met with disaster. It knew where she would be and blocked her path every time.  
  
"Waaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!! What did I do to deserve this? Ranma, I know this is all your fault!!!"  
  
Not too far away, just as a group of glassy-eyed students were preparing to toss him into the chilly depths of the pool, Ranma muttered,"Stupid tomboy, always acting like she's a martial artist...worst martial artist I ever saw..."  
  
Nabiki's grin was nearly feral as she glanced down at her micro-recorder. It hung from a loop sewn into her waist band and she always had it running during her waking hours, just in case some juicy tidbit of knowledge came her way and she needed proof to back it up.  
  
"Okay, one the count of three...one...two...three..." Ranma was much much heavier than he looked, and the less than fit students barely managed to get Ranma out of their hands before he dropped like a stone. Leave it to Ranma's luck to recieve another dangerous head injury only minutes after the first one, at least this time it was only concrete, and not chi powered atomic mallets.  
  
****  
  
Xionbarg chuckled as he viewed the mortal female running for her miserable life as his sword carried out it command to protect its master, even going so far as to use the boy's subconscious desire for vengeance to taunt the girl into an hysterical state of fear. Maybe he should have done this sooner, it was even more fun than torturing the real Michael Jackson.   
  
****  
  
"Oh, Akane, my love, if only I could express my true feeling to you," Ryoga lamented for the tenth time in the last hour. By now, his aura had reached its daily peak, and soon the simple manifestation would begin to tire him out and he would have to sleep. Everyday it was the same routine- wake up, throw a few shi shi hokodan to get rid of the depression brought on by a night of miserable dreams, eat something followed by another shi shi hokodan or two to get rid of the depression brought on by not being able to eat Akane's delectable food...the cycle repeated for various reasons and Ryoga ended up expending enough energy on a daily basis to power most small cities.   
  
The lost boy looked up and frowned. He didn't remember the sky being made of purple flames the last time he checked. Sigh, he was probably in America again. Kami knew the place was weird enough. The locals had probably just bought some new clouds or something.  
  
****  
  
"...the duty of a martial artist is to protect the weak and innocent..." Ranma said in a voice not his own and sounding much like Genma's. Nabiki nodded, grateful that the eldest Saotome had drilled that particular trait into Ranma moronic little head. She didn't even want to think about how he would be if he didn't have that whole 'protect innocents' BS guiding his actions.  
  
"Duty sucks [censored][censored], and licks [censored][censored][censored], not to mention [censored] and [censored]," Ranma finished, now sounding like himself.  
  
"Wow, who woulda thought you even knew those words?" This was getting to be more trouble than Akane was worth. Beckoning one of her servants, Nabiki commanded,"Just bring a bucket of water." That's what she should have done in the first place, but it would have been much more satisfying to see Ranma flouder in the pool as consciousness returned.  
  
Within a minute there were seven underlings gathered at Nabiki's side, and they all had buckets of water. "Did I ask for more than one bucket of water?" Sigh. "Nevermind, I'll deduct it from your salary." Hah, mind controlled sla-...employees didn't complain about much. The girl grabbed a bucket and said,"Don't just stand there, go get pictures of Akane, and get a few of Kuno. Make sure to get his new haircut in all of them."  
  
Only after making sure they all ran in the proper direction did Nabiki up end the container on Ranma. Besides getting a good deal wetter, nothing happened to the pigtailed martial artist. Nabiki's eyes bugged out and her hair stood on end. How...when did Ranma get cured?! Before getting trully upset, Nabiki checked the water remainin within the bucket. There were only a few drops, but it was enough for her to tell that the water was warm. The middle Tendo felt like crying, but steeled herself and went after the water herself. If she ever got her hands on that little imp it was gonna wish it didn't have so many tentacles when she got finished with it.  
  
****  
  
Acting on instincts she never knew she had, Akane ducked, though some would say she had gotten lucky and tripped on an exposed tree root, just barely missing being impaled on the relentless sword that was making sport of her. By now the girl was down to her panties, those only hanging on her by a few threads, an equally damaged bra that was even more noticeably lopsided, and a strip of blouse that was tucked under the one fully functional bra strap she still had.   
  
Hiroshi cheered the sword on, silently, of course, as Daisuke used his video camera to get as much footage of a sweaty, almost naked Akane as possible.  
  
"This is great, Roshi, a few more minutes and she won't have anything on," Daisuke stated happily. He never allowed his camera to waver, even as Akane lost her panties and was reduced to jumping around with her hands busily covering her goods.  
  
Tears of happiness in his eyes, Hiroshi said,"I wish I could get my own perverted sword. I wonder who that one belongs to."  
  
Daisuke didn't immediately reply, preoccupied as he was with getting a zoomed in close up of Akane's legs spread as she jumped over the crater created by her attack on Ranma. "Probably the old freak."  
  
A few seconds of pregnant silence, then in unison the pair shouted,"Our hero!!!!"  
  
****  
  
"Finally," Nabiki huffed, dumping the cold water from the pool over Ranma.  
  
Ranma sat up with a startled grunt and held her hand to her head. "Ugh, worse dreams I've ever had, stupid tomboy, stupid mallet," she grunted. Slowly, equilibrium gradually righting itself, Ranma climbed to her feet and shook her head painfully. "Thanks, I guess, Nabiki. I'll pay you later, don't have any cash on me now."  
  
"Don't just stand there, you dope, go save Akane!" Nabiki snapped at her. No one would ever accuse Ranma of being bright, Nabiki thought.  
  
"Huh?" she said, ringing water out of her sodden shirt.  
  
"Idiot, there's a sword chasing Akane all over the courtyard. You think you could go save her before it make Akane-cabobs out of her?"  
  
Jeeze, again, how could the tomboy get herself into trouble so often? "Ok, ok, I'm on my way, don't get excited."  
  
****  
  
Ranma arrived on the scene, unaware of the events that had occured only minutes before. Everyone was gone now, including Akane and the sword Nabiki said was chasing her. She frowned, nearly convinced that Nabiki was playing an elaborate joke on her. Before she turned to leave, though, Ranma noticed that the ground was littered with cut and torn strips of cloth and further observation revealed the match to Akane's boob thing resting under a tree. The one she'd grabbed with the amaguriken was only a few feet away, so how had that one gotten all the way over there?   
  
Thinking back, Ranma couldn't determine why she'd done to Akane what she had, even if it was funny. She shrugged the incident aside, attributing it to overexposure to tomboy. The least she could do was get the fake tits for her fiance before some pervert stole them.  
  
Foam breast in hand, Ranma made her way over to the tree to retrieve the other one.  
  
"Ranma, give me your shirt," came a command from up in the branches of the tree.  
  
Ranma's head jerked up and she saw Akane sitting high up on one of the tree's branches, a bundle of leaves obscuring her crotch and a leafy stick hiding her chest.  
  
"What are ya doing up there, Akane?" Ranma asked without thinking.  
  
"You idiot, what does it look like I'm doing?" Ranma smirked and was about to reply snidely, but Akane interrupted,"Nevermind. Just give me your clothes so I can get down from here and go home. When I find out who's sword that was, I'm gonna pound them soooo bad. I bet it was Happosai, that little perverted troll..." Akane continued to rant for a mintue or two, ignoring Ranma as she went through the courtyard at amaguriken speed, collecting all the fragments of Akane's uniform.  
  
****  
  
"We're home," Ranma announced loudly as he and Akane entered the Tendo home. He was once again male, courtesy of warm water collected from some kind and desperate soul at the local ice cream shop.  
  
"Better watch out for Nabiki, Akane," Ranma warned only half seriously. If another prince was planning to show, Ranma needed to train, so he headed for the dojo. What else could a magic sword signify?  
  
"Don't think I've forgotten about what you did at school, Ranma," Akane said before stomping upstairs.  
  
****  
  
Halfway up the stairs, Nabiki appeared at the top. She took one look at her younger sister and burst out laughing. Akane looked like a partially mummified stripper who'd been attacked by a swarm of demonic moths. Poorly woven strips of cloth formed a barely adequate bikini top and the loin cloth type thing hanging from her waist had to be quite drafty.  
  
Akane glared at her sister, but wisely kept her mouth shut. Nabiki was in an entirely different league than her sister, and she didn't want to get on her bad side.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes: This fic is sorta choppy and short, but it's the best I could manage with my screwed up keyboard. I'd feel like writing, start, then get so frustrated about having to copy and paste punctuation and caps lock ever capitalized word that I'd give up. If I wasn't so cheap and lazy, I would've bought a new one by now, but since I'm going home for Thanksgiving I'm just gonna switch this one with the keyboard to the computer there. No one ever uses the thing, so they won't notice. C+C [couldn't even get a freakin 'an' symbol to display] welcome at dark_phoneix@hotmail.com 


	3. 

Summoning The Beast: Chapter 2  
  
The infernal being known as Xiombarg lounged indolently on and against a semi-mountainous pile of charred bones, only some of which were human. A swirling ring of violent fire served to mute the sooty red glow that his form naturally exuded, and within the ring he observed the first steps of what he hoped would be a very profittable venture. The sword, for it had no other name, had taken to its mission with a certain sadistic glee that had the equivalent to a demonic god chuckling evilly. The dreams of his hobby had been fun to watch, and carefully manipulate when the opportunity arose, but watching the sword in action gave a deeper pleasure. Xiombarg's 'gift' to Ranma wasn't capable of acting on its own, but when partnered with a sentient being, it became an extension of that being's subconscious, an outlet for repressed emotions and desires that otherwise only came to light during episodes of extreme stress or general psychotic breakdown.   
  
In other words, it had been Ranma's own mind and innate dislike of his fiance that had thoroughly disrobed and mortally embarrassed her before the eyes of her friends and classmates. One last evil chuckle and Xiombarg snapped his fingers, erasing the ring of fire from the air and summoning to his side one of the creatures capable of travelling to the mortal plane.  
  
The imp was small, maybe topping two and one half feet in height and its overall weight couldn't have been more than thirty pounds, yet in its own way, it embodied an evil as great as any greater demon spawn. Xiombarg was particularly proud of this creation, and one day hoped it would help to corrupt children the world over.  
  
"Master," it squeaked, ecstatic to be in its creator's presence. Red fur bristled excitedly and the imp's enormous eyes bulfed with fanatic glee.  
  
"I have yet another task for thee, my pet," Xiombarg declared, momentarily destracted by a particularly lovely succubus flying high over head.  
  
It hopped up and down uncontrollably, unable to master its emotions with its limited will and intellect."More children, Master?" it queried hopefully.  
  
"Nay, Elmo, that task is long completed." And Xiombarg began to elaborate to his miniscule minion what he had in mind.  
  
****  
  
"How am I supposed to find a magic sword?" Ranma asked in exasperation. As if getting chewed out for not defending Akane wasn't bad enough, nevermind that he'd been unconscous due to her actions, now everyone wanted him to hunt down a flying sword that didn't seem all that fond of tomboys. That alone made it alright in his book, and it hadn't really hurt Akane, so why should he bother with it?  
  
Genma's crossed arms and look of stern dissaproval may have been more effective if everyone he'd ever met didn't know that he was a low down, lying, dirty scoundrel who looked out for himself and only himself. "Because, boy, it is your duty as a martial artist to protect the weak and innocent, as well as your duty as Akane's future husband to uphold her honor."  
  
Ranma frowned sourly. There was that damned annoying word again: 'duty'. Would it never leave him be?  
  
Before Ranma could say something stupid and get yelled at, Akane stamped her foot impatiently, tired of being ignored. All signs that she intended to main Ranma for the breast incident earlier in the day had left her, overrided by the deep seated need in her to release her anger on the sword."You all are talking like I'm a helpless little girl. I'm a martial artist too, you know. That stupid sword just took me by suprise. Next time I see it, I'll beat it for sure!" she exclaimed finally.  
  
The two older men and Ranma shared a single glance. Words were not necessary for the communication that passed between the trio. Akane wasn't exactly a martial arts virtuoso, and they all knew it. Her chances against something that had easily toyed with her despite all her efforts to stop it weren't very high.  
  
"Now now, Akane, let's don't be hasty," Soun Tendo quickly asserted. "Ranma is, afterall, your fiance, and honor compells him to defend your virtue, even should that be against an enchanted sword." The man was quite proud of himself. He hadn't been that eloquent in years, at least not since he'd talked himself into his dear departed wive's pants for the first time.  
  
"I agree. Ranma is a much better martial artist than you, anyway, and he'd have a better chance at defeating the sword. Your style is far to simple and sluggish to ever combat something as manuverable as you've described." Genma continued on for a minute or two without realizing how much danger he was in. He blinked a couple times as Akane's battle aura flared into intense existance and didn't even attempt to dodge the incoming mallet.  
  
A few moments later, as he was helpfully kicking his father out of his new hole, Ranma wondered if the inability to dodge hammers was an inherited trait from his father. It made a sort of perverse sense. He'd seen his mother try to weild her sword, and he was ashamed to admit that she was horribly clumsy with it, so why could she always manage to nick Genma or pound him with the flat of the blade when he was a much better fighter. Not that the old man didn't deserve the beatings, not after his mother had caught him in the porn shop that Hiroshi and Daisuke so often frequented. He didn't have to worry about accidental decapitations at least, but mallets aren't all that pleasant, either.  
  
Whatever. The idiot had deserved the beating and now Ranma guessed it was time for another healthy dose of duty. Regardless of his opinion, he couldn't let Akane get herself carved up like a ham because she was too stubborn to know to mind her own business.  
  
"I'll do it," he grumbled. One last kick dislodged Genma and sent him crashing into the wall. Without any further conversation, Ranma walked from the parlor and out of the Tendo home. Inevitably, whenever something strange happened, he always ended up going to Cologne for help. She probably planned to kidnap him and carry him off to China, some day, but for now, all that knowledge and wisdom she'd aquired from being older than dirt would come in handy.  
  
****  
  
Mousse didn't really put up much of a fight, and Ranma suspected that it was mroe out of habit than any desire to murder him. He entered the Nekohaten, Mousse slung negligently over one shoulder. He fingered a slight tear in his shirt made by one of several hundred shuriken the blind fighter had launched at him. Ranma reminded himself to tell Kasumi about it so she could fix it before it got any larger and ruined the garment.  
  
The robed teenager 'thumped' loudly enough on the wooden floor to rouse Cologne's curiousity. She walked out from the kitchen, a bowl of ramen in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. Finishing the noodles already in the grasp of the chop sticks, she sat the bowl down and scurried over to Mousse. A few pokes and he groaned painfully, never quite regaining consciousness, though.  
  
"Thorough," she said approvingly."I fail to see why you bother working him over so hardily, but I suppose a certain amount of stress relief is nice for someone in your position, son-in-law."  
  
"Not really. I just figured if he couldn't walk or use his arms or do pretty much anything at all for a few weeks, he wouldn't be able to attack me for a while." Sound reasoning when dealing with most people, but Mousse could be tricky and Ranma wouldn't put it past the boy not to have an assault tank stowed away somewhere within his volumous robes.  
  
"Indeed," Cologne agreed."So, what brings you here today, son-in-law? I'm sure it wasn't expressly to assault Mousse."  
  
"Today at school, Akane got attacked by a flying sword. I was just wondering if you knew of any flying swords that could have done it." Couldn't get much planer than that.  
  
The old, withered woman appeared unperturbed by the unusual question, her already hideously wrinkled brow creasing further in thought."It's been quite some time since I myself encountered such a weapon, but there are a few loose in the world. They belong to wealthy collectors or ancient warriors such as myself. Could you describe the sword?"  
  
Ranma shrugged."I wasn't there, but Nabiki said it was long and straight, about five feet all together, bluish in color, with a white hilt. It moved too fast to see any finer details, I guess. Does that help?"  
  
"Not much, I'm afraid. I don't recall any such sword. That's not very important in itself. The weapon could have recently been unearthed from any number of tombs spread throughout the old world. I wouldn't even rule out recent creation. There are a few thaumaturgists of sufficient skill roaming about capable of such an act."   
  
"Okay, so you don't know about this one. Can you tell me how to fight a sword that doesn't have a weilder?" Ranma asked dubiously. A man with a sword could always be disarmed or incapacitated, but a sword that fought on its own presented a whole world of problems.  
  
"Very carefully, son-in-law, very carefully," she cautioned.  
  
"That's not very helpful, Old Ghoul," Ranma snapped.  
  
"Don't be rude," Cologne said, bashing Ranma on the head with her staff, despite the fact that she had not had it only a moment before. "You might as well have a seat, I'll be back in a moment."  
  
****  
  
Walking back to the dojo, Ranma idly shuffled through the stack of books and magazines Cologne had piled into his arms. The 'National Geographic: Enchanted Weapons' edition was full of pictures and simple to understand instructions, like 'this spoon eats your soul' or 'beware of the jewelled butterknife of Frank the Barber, for it induces permanent baldness'. None of those particular descriptions were very helpful, but he was sure there would be some that would be useful. The books, on the other hand, promised to be boring and time consuming. Maybe he could pay Nabiki to read them and tell him what he needed to know.  
  
Nah, that probably wouldn't be very safe. Nabiki wasn't the most trustworthy of people, and considering what he now knew of the girl, placing his fate in her hands didn't seem like the most prudent of decisions.  
  
****  
  
While Ranma was gone, the sword had made another appearance, this time at the Tendo dojo. Ranma found his father and the Tendo patriarch cowering in a corner. Both men were pale and trembling, not even able to use full sentences to explain to him what had happened. Apparently, it had been well on its way to gutting the two men until Kasumi had actually 'ASKED' it to leave, telling it that it was making a dreadful mess. Who knew Kasumi had it in her?  
  
"Blood is so very difficult to remove once it seeps into the woodgrain," the girl explained to him.  
  
Still a bit stunned, Ranma nodded absently and carried his armload up to the room he shared with his father. He decided to tease his father about soilling his gi another time, probably the next time the idiot threw him into the pond.  
  
He tossed the minute library to the floor and picked up a slim volume entitled: 'Mordenkainen's Encyclopedia of the Arcane, Volume 435, Swords And Other Sword-like Objects'. Of course since it was written in English, Ranma didn't have any clue what those words meant. Strange how he could read the inside but not the outside, even thought they were both in the same language.  
  
****  
  
"That doesn't make any sense, Nabiki," Ranma responded.  
  
"It's simple really. Since you have so far failed to capture, destroy, or scare off that sword, it falls to you to pay for the damages caused by the weapon. I'm sure there's a legal precedent for this type of situation, I just don't feel like looking for it." Nabiki sounded quite smug, absolutely certain that she had managed to once again take Ranma for all he was worth, even if that wasn't really very much in the first place.  
  
"What's a 'legal precedent'? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. If you want someone to pay for this mess, call up your demon friends and get them to take care of it." Oh boy, that may have a bit to much.  
  
Nabiki's eyes went flat and her face livid with suppressed anger."Don't ever, I mean ever, so much as think about what you know about my friends, Ranma," she demanded through tightly clenched teeth. Then, spinning on her heel, she stalked away, muttering obscenities and threats only half under her breath.  
  
Reminding himself to tread lightly around Nabiki for the next few days, Ranma reluctantly went back to his studies.  
  
"Cologne sure has a bunch of useless junk," he commented to himself as he set the latest book aside. Why in the world would anyone person need so many books about magic swords?  
  
****  
  
With slow, meticulous care, Elmo worked his way through the warehouse, gathering a bit of infernal shadow to his furred hand and instilling it with single-minded loving care into each of the false likenesses of himself. The 'Tickle Me Elmos' had been sitting forgotten, no longer the hot item of Christmas past. Well, if Elmo had his say, people would soon remember just how horrid and cuddly he could be.  
  
****  
  
Engrossed as he was within on of Cologne's books, Ranma had to be called down to dinner an amazing two times. Even throughout the meal, he never stopped reading the book. His father, largely recovered from his brush with death, made a hundred or so attempts to steal his son's meal, but the book Ranma was reading also served as a suitable blunt object, and by the time everyone finished eating, Genma was a large bruise. Well, what Akane and the sword hadn't already gotten to, anyway.  
  
Not looking up from the book, Ranma missed the amazed and confused stares directed at him by the Tendos and his mother. Ranma, reading a book, willingly? Surely Hell had frozen over. No one mentioned anything to Ranma, either frightened that he may be possessed or just general courtesy(Kasumi only). Nodoka, upon seeing that the subject of the book dealt largely with swords, smiled hugely and literally beamed maternal pride and happiness.  
  
****  
  
Okay, magic swords could be useful, Ranma admitted, but he wasn't a weapon user and he didn't see many of the things lying around, so he didn't dwell on the issue. Problem was, he didn't think he could effectively combat the blade that had attacked Akane. From his research, little of it that there was, Ranma had discovered that just to get up to the level of controlled flight and self-control, a sword had to have all kinds of other options added to its substance. Dweomer didn't sound all that dignified, in Ranma's opinion, and he could have probably come up with something better on his own, but he understood the basics of the principle, so that was enough.  
  
Without powerful magic, something he didn't have and didn't want, Ranma would probably need another enchanted weapon of at least equal power to Akane's attacker. The Kinjakan and Gekkaja were both on the high power scale, but they were also in China and not all that accessible. He doubted the Phoenix People would let him borrow them, even if he could get there.  
  
Then, before he could grumble about how unfair his life was, he heard his father scream. It was loud and high pitched, much closer to that of a woman than Genma's normal bellow, but Ranma attributed it to the pain of being beaten by a sword. With a sigh, he went to do his 'duty'.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes: Damn, been a while since I wrote anything, mostly because of the keyboard(my mom wouldn't let me switch it with the one at home, even though no one else uses that one except for me). This part of Summoning The Beast seems even more choppy and disjointed to me than the last part, but I've figured out why. I've got some plans on how I want Ranma to turn out and I'm looking forward to when I can actually get him to use the sword(s). All these two or three paragraph sections just let me jump through time a little faster. Maybe next chapter there'll be an invasion of giggling demon dolls or something, but it'll be another few chapters before Ranma actually gets the sword. C&C welcome at dark_phoneix@hotmail.com 


	4. 

Summoning The Beast: Chapter 3  
  
"There won't be any permanent damage, and scarring should be minimal," the doctor said to the gathered Tendo and Saotome families, though Ranma was the sole member representing his clan. "I'm going to prescribe Mr. Saotome a standard course of antibiotics and some rather powerful pain medication, so he should be carefully supervised for the first few days while his systems acclimates to the pain killers." The hospital wide intercom system suddenly came to life, calling on the same doctor who had been speaking. "I'm afraid duty calls. At the checkout desk a nurse will provide you with a wheelchair for Mr. Saotome. Good day."  
  
Everyone was still in varying degrees of shock over the attack on Genma. He hadn't lost all 'that' much blood, and he only needed one testicle to function as reproductive member of society, but the brutality was something unheard of in Nerima. Violent fiance beatings, battles fought nearly to the death, and all other manner of painful 'accidents' could occur, but no enemy had ever attempted anything close to castration. Ranma was having second thoughts about taking on a sword that could do something like that to his father, a man he mostly loathed but whom he admitted had more than enough skill to handle most ooponents, supernatural or mundane.  
  
"Uncle Saotome would probably like to get home as soon as possible," Kasumi prompted firmly, setting the others into motion.  
  
Genma was noticeably pale as the group entered his room, but he appeared none the worse for wear. A gallon sized tub of chocolate pudding sat on a tray before him and a television show, something of a cross between a sentai series and a cooking program, buzzed in the wall mounted set. Nodoka, her eyes red rimmed and her fists clenched, sat in a chair next to his bed.  
  
An awkward silence hung in the air for but a few moments, before Ranma asked,"So, pop, how're they hanging?" He hadn't even thought about the question before asking it, and only after it'd came out of his outh did he realize just what he'd said. Ranma's eyes widened and he took in the stunned looks on all the faces around him.  
  
Genma, suprisingly, flushed brightly and buried his head in the tup of pudding, his spoon becoming a blur of motion as it shovelled the dessert into the man's mouth at almost hypersonic speeds.  
  
Eyes darting from one person to another, Ranma began to apologize, but instead said,"How does it feel to be a half man?" He chuckled once, caught himself, then slammed his hands down over his mouth and prayed to survive the next few minutes.  
  
Nabiki, silent until now, snickered cruelly. It set of a chain reaction within the room. Genma, Soun, and Nodoka began to wail, all lamenting Genma's lost equipment. Nabiki went into a full blown laugh, and the remaining Tendo sisters looked over their family and friends in shocked disbelief. Akane even felt sorry for Genma, since she too had been humiliated by that damned sword. She felt immense gratitude that it had only disrobed her.  
  
Ranma fled, confused his verbal slips and unable to really be upset at himself over them.  
  
****  
  
Roof top to roof top, Ranma vaulted, blanking his mind and expending all his efforts on pure speed. If someone had looked out their office window at the proper time, they would have seen a red and black blur bouncing from skyscraper to skyscraper, sometimes going almost into freefall, only to catch itself on a jutting transmission antenna or flag pole. Exhiliration, sheer freedom, this was what Ranma craved, not a life bound by chains of duty, both to his overbearing and eccentric parents, and to a wife he didn't care for, much less want to be around.  
  
And now, as if his life wasn't complicated enough as it was, with all the fiances and rivals, the countless kidnappings and pervert attacks, Ranma had been charged with driving off or destroying an enemy he couldn't fight, and it was all because he'd played the hero, the knight protector who placed the safety of others above that of himself. Expected behavior, he'd thrown himself into the task, although he silently railed against those who would bridle him with yet another responsibility.  
  
Far below, beyond Ranma's care or notice, a swirling cloud of fire and brimstone appeared in the middle of a busy intersection. A few moments more and Ranma would have been out of auditory range, but he wasn't, so he heard the screeching concussion of cars slamming into one another. A reverse somersault off of a realtively small thirty story building brought Ranma to a perch where he could observe the unusual accident. At first he assumed the cloud of fire to be a burning car, but that assumption rapidly changed as dozens of red-furred things began to leap from the eddying portal to Hell.  
  
Small and red was about all Ranma could see from such a distance, but he knew something was up by the simple fact that animals don't jump out of a fireball without being on fire, and they most certainly didn't eat cars like these were beginning to do.  
  
Demons? Well, if they were demons, they were kinda wimpy looking to be demons, but Ranma didn't particularly care. A fight without neccessity, a challenge that he could choose to accept or ignore as he saw fit, that's what had just presented itself. No one appearred to be in any danger, as the demons happily munched away on the totalled remains of several vehicles while ignoring their fleeing passengers. A broad grin spread itself accross Ranma's face and he dived head first towards the demon infested street.  
  
****  
  
Elmo surveyed his horde as it fed. They weren't much, not as long as they were so soft and cuddly, but that would soon change. The combination of fear from their entrance and metal from their meal would reinforce their plush bodies and fuel their infernal powers. Already Elmo was seeing the changes in a few of his servitors. They no longer moved quiet as jerkily and one or two were even showing signs of an actual internal skeleton. Within his firey refuge, Elmo sensed an enormous presence nearing, mothing like that of his Lord and Master, but stronger than anything it'd ever felt on this plane.   
  
From the sky fell a gowing figure, wreathed in blue flames that filled the air with the crackling of pent up energy and brought the smell of ozone to any near enough to see the figure, a teenage boy crash feet first into the pavement. The asphault crumpled under the force of the landing, a shallow but wide crater forming beneath the boy with fine cracks radiating outward over a dozen meters. Elmo watched, not quite in fear, as the boy stood, coming out of a one kneed kneeling position with frightening grace that set tiny streamers of blue flame spinning slowly into the air.  
  
****  
  
Ranma didn't see the tiny figure hidden within the flaming rupture in the fabric of space, but he did note the the fire had no visible source and didn't even touch the bubbling asphault beneath it. Up close, the litte red demons were actually pretty cute, Ranma mused, though the concept of a 'cute' demon had never occured to him. When they turned to hiss at him and bared row upon row of razor-like metal fangs, Ranma decided to handle the situation a bit more seriously.  
  
"All right, ya little furballs, time to go back to Hell." Ranma stated menacingly. The cute little things hissed again, then began to giggle in unison, their tiny little frames shaking merrily. Only then did Ranma realize the true evil that these hellspawned monstrosities embodied. The sonic barrage introduced all kinds of cute and cuddly thoughts into his mind, even going so far as to want a little red-furred demon of his own to hold and snuggle up to whenever the urge took him.  
  
Ranma shook his head and growled at the horde that by now surrounded him. The intensity of his battle aura subconsciously increased and small pebbles, shards of glass, and other debris in the desserted intersection began to slowly skid away from him, pushed away by the force of his will. Despite their numbers and cuteness, they were no match for Ranma, and he knew it as soon as one of them attacked, baring fangs that dripped motor oil and claws that still had pieces of upholstery stuck to them. It was slow and uncoordinated, and Ranma batted the suprisingly soft creature out of the air and into a nearby building where it hit the wall and exploded into a cloud of white fiber stuffing and a few bits of red fur.  
  
Ranma only had a moment to contemplate the existance of stuffed demons before the slain demon's bretheren attempted to dog pile him. Those that didn't burst into flame upon nearing Ranma found themselves the target of almost lazy punches and kicks that tore them into chunks of useless wads of cloth and polyester. A few of them who had managed to ingest a significant amount of automobile and suprised Ranma when it took a whopping two hits to finish them.  
  
****  
  
Elmo saw red, well he always saw red, but this time he 'really' saw red. The boy who so callously destroyed his creations became a figure composed of varying shades of red and pink and the raging aura that surrounded him looked much smaller and less threatening as noting more than a distortion in the pink tinged air. With a cry of rage and hate, Elmo exploded from the flames, inadvertently closing the gateway behind him and cutting off his only escape route. He roared a squeaky kind of roar and called on his infernal power, so much so that by the time the boy saw him he was no longer a knee high child's play thing, but a fifteen foot high, spike covered horror from the pits of Hell. Smokey trails of dark energy flowed from his decimated likenesses like streamers of smoke and he gathered them lovingly into his taloned paws.   
  
The human would pay, pay with its life and soul.  
  
****  
  
'That' sure as freaking Hell wasn't cute or cuddly. Ranma tilted his head back so he could get a better view of his newest victim. He didn't see or sense the sword that hovered around him protectively on the Astral Plane, not in its split form as two, more slender blades.   
  
It kinda resembled the stuffed demons, sorta like how a salamander has the same basic shape as a crocodile. Ranma winced as it threw its head backed and roared, a sound that was just as squeaky as it had been when he'd first heard the sound that had drawn his attention. Ranma couldn't help himself, and chuckled a few times. Enormous monsters weren't supposed to sound like mice, it was some kind of unspoken rule, at least that's what Ranma's experience had led him to belive.  
  
Ranma leapt aside as a bolt of black lightning issued forth from the monster's gaping maw, then dived behind an overturned and partially eaten car as the lightning was followed by a spray of acid. It wanted to play that game, did it? Well, Ranma could play just as good as any two-bit demon. He kicked into the air as another bolt of black lightning flew from the demon's mouth, this time igniting the car's fuel tank and causing a massive fireball to billow high into the air, almost enveloping Ranma. Even as the thick black smoke swallowed him, the light of his chi aura grew in intensity, causing the cloud of smoke to glowazure from within.  
  
"Moko takabisha!!!" Ranma shouted, blasting away the obscuring smoke with his aura and taking aim on the stupidly staring demon below.  
  
The lance of energy slammed into the demon, knocking it to the ground and pinning it there as the beam continued to hammer into it. Ranma, held aloft by the recoil of his attack, continued to pour power into the beam, watching in satisfaction as red fur and black spikes alike burned away under the unrelenting energy. Only when he sensed that his attack had burrowed through the demon and into the street beheath it did Ranma cut power to it. By now he was a block and a half away, propelled by the force his chi, and even from that distance he, he could see the demon stand, staggering as it did, and clutching at the gaping hole in its torso that dripped green and purple ichor as well as copious amounts of black energy that drifted away on an errant breeze.  
  
Slightly winded by the effort of maintaining his moko takabisha for so long, Ranma ran down the street, unaware of the hundreds of people who stood as far back from the fight as possible while still being able to view it, and the pair of helicopters that circled over the scene in precise patterns as their mounted cameras captured the struggle for the viewers at home.  
  
****  
  
"It's all right, Genma old friend," Soun assured the man tearfully. "I've read all about it in those magazines outside. You can get a fake one that will look and feel just like the real thing, isn't that great?"  
  
Genma shook his head mournfully and looked down at his numbed crotch. Ranma was right, he was a half man, no matter what the doctors or psychiatrists insisted. And all this time he'd made fun of his son about his curse. The heavily medicated man felt like the proverbial pile of shit. He'd lost a ball, but his son regularly lost his manhood. How did the boy handle it without going insane?  
  
"Cheer up, Uncle Saotome," Nabiki volunteered helpfully. "If the prosthetics don't work out, you can always get a transplant. I hear that scientists are making discoveries almost daily in transferring pig organs to human patients." The statement had the desired effect, and Genma broke down crying once again.  
  
"Hey, everyone, look!" Akane exclaimed. In her hand was the remote to the television and she was pointing at the set with an emphatically jabbing finger. "Is that Ranma?"  
  
The picture on the screen was an overhead view of Ranma trading blows with a really big, really ugly monster. It had a large smoking whole in its chest and one of its arms had been torn off at the shoulder, but it showed no signs of slowing down. Ranma's shirt was ripped badly and hung in tatters from a single remaining tie. The lack of a shirt revealed a long bloody gash across Ranma's back, but he ignored it just as his opponent ignored its own, more serious wounds.  
  
Kasumi shrieked as the monster lunged its remaining arm for Ranma, covering her face and looking away. She missed seeing Ranma dodge the attack, stomp on the exposed arm with a foot that blurred into invisibility, then finally leap up to catch the monster in one of its eyes with a knife hand jab that popped the orb like an overripe melon.  
  
Akane gagged at the site, but couldn't peal her eyes away from the spectacle. The monster threw its head from side to side, squeaking pathetically as it tried to cover the ruined eye with an equally ruined arm. Since the view was momentarily zoomed in much closer to the monster so everyone could see its horrendous injuries, no one saw Ranma actually launch a moko takabisha, but they saw it connect, taking the monster in the knee and rapidly burning through armor plating, sinew, and bone, turning the limb into a charred off stump.  
  
It collapsed to the asphault, unable to stay upright. The camera zoomed back out to get a better view of the fire and lightning scarred, cratered battle field. Ranma had his hands raised into the air and his head thrown back as he yelled a primal shout of victory over his enemy. Everyone watched, even Kasumi, as the monster began to unravel, turning into thick bands of black smoke that writhed like disembodied tentacles.  
  
****  
  
Ranma breathed deeply, savoring the smell of molten asphault and grilled demon. His whole body ached and the cut across his back throbbed painfully, but that didn't matter. He'd fought and won, fought a battle for the simple joy of fighting, the thrill of crushing ones enemy into nothing. He walked slowly to his dying foe, gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to limp as he further strained a pulled groin muscle.  
  
A black rope of energy lashed at him, but it fizzled out of existance as it came in contact with his much diminished but still powerful battle aura. He wanted to look it in the eyes, eye, whatever, and let it know its death at his hands. Ranma never got quite close enough to do that, though, because the demon chose then to explode in a very messy and very destructive ball of black fire.  
  
Ranma's eyes widened in suprise and shock, and he reflexively crossed his arms in front of his chest. He didn't even have time to hope to survive.  
  
****  
  
Kasumi wasn't the only person to shriek as Ranma was enveloped in the massive ball of supernatural fire that topped some of the nearby buildings in size. The helicopter that captured these images had to veer away hard, or be caught in the fire and the wicked thermals it would create. Nodoka and Kasumi sobbed at the apparent death of Ranma, while Soun and Genma lost consciousness, and Nabiki and Akane stared in open mouthed shock.  
  
When the news chopper managed to get itself stable once again, and the cameras were able to refocus on the raging inferno that was liquifying the glass windows of nearby buildings, Nodoka, too, fainted. The fire burned unabated for several minutes, then, without warning, disappeared entirely. In its wake was a molten see of asphault and concrete, brightly glowing puddles that had once been automobiles, and slumping facades of business that flowed slowly towards the devastated street in sheets of intermingled glass and steel. And directly in the center of it all, on a small island of intact pavement, stood Ranma.  
  
A few feet to his right and left floated a matched pair of swords, each one visibly gathering Ranma's battle aura and redirecting it into a hazy, glass-like barrier that had protected the martial artist from a certain and painful death.  
  
****  
  
Ranma recognized the sword he had up until then never seen, or swords in this case, though it wasn't hard to discern that they had somehow split into two blades. Suprised and happy to be alive as he was, he was even more stunned by the swords. Why had it/they saved him, especially after what it had done to others? He could feel his chi being gently drained, but didn't fight the effect, for he saw and understood the sword's purpose in doing so, as it formed his energies into a shield in a fashion he doubted he'd ever be able to duplicate.  
  
The air within his little sanctuary was becoming thin and wouldn't support him much longer. He looked around, seeing that there would be no convenient jump points or spring boards to use. If he wanted to make it to safety, he would have to do it in a single bound. Taking several deep breaths, Ranma reached out for the swords, grasping one smooth bone hilt tightly in each hand and gathering as much of his energy as he could for the attempt. A moment later the shield died away and he was assualted by near scorching temperatures and fumes that would have seared his lungs if he had breathed them in.  
  
He jumped, a single powerful lunge upward and outward that caused the muscles in his strained legs to scream. Ranma hadn't even reached the zenith of his attempt when he knew he would fall well short of the solid pavement. What a way to die, just when he had done something for himself and regained something he never knew he'd lost.   
  
The tug was barely noticeable, and then Ranma was surrounded by silver mists that felt cool on his bruised skin and tingled soothingly across his battered body. The swords vibrated in his hands and he looked at them in something akin to awe, for here, in these silver mists, the swords were not swords at all, but glowing beams of light that merged seemlessly with his aura and intertwined irrevocably with his being. It was as if the swords, or whatever they truly were, were nothing but an extension of himself.  
  
Ranma gulped as the implications of what that meant became clear, and the acts that they'd commmitted over the past few days returned to his mind with fresh clarity. And those thoughts were swept away as another tug came and Ranma found himself standing near the edge of the still bubbling asphault lake that had been the site of his recent battle. His wounds didn't pain him nearly so much as only moments before, and he could see scrapes and bruises on the back of his arms that looked as if they lad days to heal.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes- Finally got another chapter out of this, and now I think I'm back to writing regularly again. Yay! Ranma's got his swords now, so what's he gonna do with them and how are people going to react to him now that they've seen him in action with and without the swords, especially Genma? Speaking of Genma, I may have been a little harsh on him, but throwing a child into a pit of starving cats strikes me as kinda harsh, too, ya know? Oh yeah, only having one nut isn't a bad thing, I knew a guy back in middle school who had to have one removed because of a really really unlucky basketball accident, and he never had any trouble with his lack of a matched set. I just can't see Genma, everyone's manly man *snicker* handling the situation all that well. C&C welcome at dark_phoneix@hotmail.com 


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